


I Wanna Be Adored

by dirtyblonde



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Flirting, Infidelity, M/M, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyblonde/pseuds/dirtyblonde
Summary: Jon moves onto Robb's couch temporarily and meets his brother's boyfriend. Things get... complicated.





	1. Stop The World I Wanna Get Off With You

**Author's Note:**

> This is tagged partially as a Theon/Robb fic to be technically correct, but it is unabashedly a Jon/Theon fic so buyer beware.

Jon had been dreading moving in with Robb.

He was reflecting upon his apprehension as he trudged the five floors up to his brother’s flat, duffel bag in one hand, suitcase in the other. It was just temporary until he could find a rental, but all the same, Jon liked his space. The thought of living on Robb’s couch even for the next few _weeks_ made him groan with displeasure.

It had been a long day. Taking the train into the city and starting his new position at the medical library had left Jon completely exhausted. He let himself into flat No. 5 with the fresh new set of keys Robb had had cut for him and looked drowsily around the dim apartment. Cleaner than he had expected. Scanning the kitchen counter he saw a note from Robb.

               

_Make yourself at home baby brother, mi casa es su casa. Theon and I won’t be in until late so don’t wait up._

_Robb xx_

_Cheesy_. _Ugh_. Jon could practically taste the note’s accompanying wink leaping off the page at him which made his eyes roll, but he barely had time to so much as furrow his brow at the words in disdain before he collapsed onto the sofa that would function as his bed for the foreseeable future. A use he immediately took full advantage of as he promptly proceeded to fall asleep fully clothed.

When Jon awoke, it wasn’t yet morning. 3:54, according to the digital display of his watch. He was disoriented for a minute as he tried to recognize where he was and what was going on around him. The where came to him fairly quickly, but the what unfortunately took a little more imagination. Jon lay stock-still and began to interpret the sounds he was hearing, wishing almost instantly that he’d had the intuitive foresight not to. He couldn’t decide which sounds were worse, the moans that were almost undoubtedly his brother’s or the ambiguous ones that he could only think to categorize as ‘wet.’ He suspected that Robb and his boyfriend were in a mid-state of coitus somewhere in the vicinity of the hallway.

As if on some perverse cue, Jon heard his name. His eyes went wide as he transitioned in that moment from groggy to completely awake. Even though he was invisible behind the back of the sofa he exercised the magic of wishful thinking in order to attempt the impossible feat of becoming intangible upon it.

“Jon,” Robb whispered again in that drunken way that’s not really a whisper at all.

“What?” said a second voice amid continued ministrations along Robb’s neck.

“My brother’s here.” Giggling. “Bedroom…” Mumbling.

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” replied Theon, the boyfriend Jon had heard so much about but never met, before doing something that made Robb issue a loud, prolonged moan.

“Bedroom,” said Robb again, this time he managed a more assertive tone that lay somewhere between hungry and demanding.

The door to Robb’s bedroom slammed abruptly. The paper thin walls did very little to alter the volume of what was going on inside of them, but the closed door did give its occupants a faulty sense of confidence in its soundproofing that provided them with the license to swear and tease and fuck and climax as loudly as they so desired.

Jon silently brought his bags to the end of the couch and stripped down to a t-shirt and briefs in some futile effort to take his mind off of the fact that his brother was being fucked to within an inch of his life in the next room. Choosing to ignore his erection out of spite toward its cause, he pulled out his e-book reader and mp3 player for a change of pace that he hoped would put him back to sleep.

He’d been reading for just over an hour when he perceived rather than saw a figure come into the kitchen. It’s possible whoever it was hadn’t seen Jon at all, the screen of his reader didn’t give off much light. The fridge opened and it wasn’t his brother he saw illuminated before it, stark naked, lazily drinking juice from the carton. Jon adjusted the position of his wire-frame glasses along the bridge of his nose and pretended it was the better to read with and not the better to determine the outlines of some partially obscured tattoos with. His first glimpse of Theon by the light of the open fridge (to say nothing of what he suspected had been transpiring in the bedroom) made his gut clench with a pang of jealousy.

Just as Jon told himself to stop staring, Theon turned towards him, looking directly at the place where his lenses must have been shining in the dark. Theon didn’t say anything, but he didn’t release the door of the fridge either. They remained frozen like that for what must have been nearly a minute. Finally a smug smile passed across Theon’s face, he let the door fall closed with the telltale jingle of jars and returned to the bedroom in the same darkness he’d arrived in.

Jon’s heart was pounding wildly. He was painfully hard again, but this time he didn’t ignore it. Instead he slid back down to lie on the sofa and swiftly brought himself off to half-guilty thoughts of his brother’s boyfriend.

 

*****

 

It was no surprise that Jon was first up considering his less than fitful sleep. By 7:20 he was already showered, dressed and ready for work even though he didn’t need to leave until 8:30, 8:45 if he was honest. He found some cereal in the cupboard and poured himself a bowl which he ate slowly while reading an old newspaper that had been left on the table. After a few spoonfuls he heard the sound of the shower running and hoped rather than believed it wasn’t Robb.

Jon was sitting there worrying his lip with an unfocused, vacant look when all of a sudden there he was in front of him, at the fridge again but this time with a pair of grey sweatpants slung low across his jutting hips.

“Morning,” Theon said, moving to lean his back against the counter so he could study Jon while he drank from the same carton of orange juice he’d been into last night.

“Morning,” Jon said in a tone that he forced to be casual.

“You must be the brother. Jon.”

Jon gave a noise of assent.

“I’m Theon,” he said.

“I know who you are,” Jon replied, his voice too harsh and wrong, as he set the paper noisily on the table he was distantly able to register that Theon now stood just in front of him, hand extended. If Jon looked before him he knew what he’d be face to face with: a waistband sinking below the cut of those hips, each bearing the tattoo of a pistol in mirror image to one another, the outline of Theon’s cock in his pants which Jon would be hard-pressed not to seek out with his gaze. Pale, lean, perfection. _Don’t look. Don’t_ look _._ His eyes betrayed him, studying slowly and intently as they moved up Theon’s curiously scarred torso to his face. Not knowing what to do, Jon put his hand into Theon’s, but Theon just held it in his without shaking it.

Jon looked longingly at the newspaper on the table as if he wished he could escape into it.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s yesterday’s news,” Theon said calmly, shifting Jon’s attention away from the paper and back onto him.

After much too long Jon was finally able to withdraw his hand, but he couldn’t do anything to stifle a blush. Now he kept concentrating on looking up at Theon’s face in order to stop himself from looking anywhere else.

“Fuck me you’re perfect,” Theon said, appraising him with thoughtful satisfaction. “I thought you might be last night, but I couldn’t be sure for the dark.”

Jon’s blush deepened, throat burning acrid with desire. Desire, but shame too, for feeling a desire he knew he shouldn’t. When he tried to hide his face, Theon cupped Jon’s jaw with one hand and tilted it back up. Jon resisted the urge to lean into the touch, his heart fluttering with distress. When Theon’s fingers traveled up into Jon’s hair he closed his eyes.

“You boys and your curls,” Theon said absentmindedly as he gently, almost reverently touched them. Jon managed to keep himself from issuing a whimper of pleasure. His trousers felt impossibly tight. He desperately wanted to know if Theon was equally affected, but refused to let himself look. “Have a good day at work.” Jon felt lips press ever so slightly against the corner of his mouth. Theon must have gone into the bathroom then because the sound of the shower ran louder for a second. Jon allowed himself to sit there with his eyes closed a few moments longer before he opened them in order to pretend that his whole morning had been some kind of hellish fever dream.

 

*****

 

The entire day at the library Jon was in a torpor. He mostly tried to convince himself that what had happened that morning hadn’t happened at all as he ever so slightly misshelved half the items on his cart. _You probably just reacted that way because things haven’t exactly been_ busy _in that department lately._ That wasn’t it… “Asshole,” he muttered under his breath, but whether he meant himself or Theon or no one in particular he couldn’t say.

He resolved to keep to himself and avoid being at the apartment as much as he could possibly help it. After work he would text Robb and invent fake friends he needed to meet up with (only occasionally meeting real ones) to throw his brother off the scent. Mostly he read in a rotating series of coffee shops and saw a lot of movies. He made sure to leave early for work so as not to have a repeat of that first morning, the memory of which he revisited often.

Two weeks of this and he could scarcely keep it up. He wasn’t sleeping enough and he felt like he was living like a fugitive. Robb had finally started to notice something.

 

ROBB

You’re acting v weird. What’s up?

 

 _Atrocious_ , Jon thought, contemptuously regarding the ‘v’ in his text in order to temporarily defer the knowledge that he would eventually have to send him some sort of response.

 

JON

Just having a hard time getting settled I guess.

 

ROBB

It feels like you're avoiding us.

: (

 

 _Us_.  _Had he talked with Theon about him?_

 

JON

I feel guilty for intruding I guess. Maybe I’ve been finding a few extra excuses to stay away from the apartment after work?

 

It wasn’t a complete lie.

 

ROBB

I want you to meet Theon properly. You’ll really like him. Promise.

We want to welcome you to the city you old lump.

 

And then just as Jon was crafting the perfect excuse in his head.

 

ROBB

Won’t take no for an answer. See you tonight!


	2. I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You

“Spruce yourself up a bit.” had been Robb’s final text before sending Jon the address. _Rude_. Nevertheless, Jon had to admit his brother made a good point, so he swung by the apartment after work to change into a pair of fitted black jeans and a plaid button up in the hopes that Robb would deem him to be sufficiently spruced.

The bar was packed by the time Jon got there, throbbing with heat and music that spilled out onto the sidewalk as he approached. He’d been expecting more of a sit down pub night (think trivia and 2 pints max.), but he should have known that Robb would have another sort of welcome in store for him. _It’s not that I’m not fun, but…_ _Oh god._ Even catching himself _thinking_ that made Jon want to put his face in his hands. _I’m old. And not fun. That’s who I am now._ Refusing to continue following his current train of thought, he weaved through the smokers loitering outside so he could pay his cover and find Robb.

If the place had seemed crowded from the outside, that was nothing compared to the press inside. It was filled to the rafters with other twentysomething hipsters drinking the venue special. If not that, then they were drinking whatever tall cans or liquor they had brought with them in their backpacks. This was not like any bar Jon had ever been to and he examined his surroundings with curiosity. The more he looked, the more he realized that the place he was in was actually just a walk-up with virtually no furniture inside of it.

“You made it!” Robb was at his side hugging him before he’d even fully registered that he was being spoken to. Robb took a step back, holding Jon at arm’s length in order to give him a once over. “You spruced!” he exclaimed in approval. They both laughed as Robb slipped a beer into Jon’s hand. “Cheers!” And they drank.

“What is this place?” Jon whisper-yelled to be heard over the music.

“It’s called The Faceless Man. It’s like a DIY, music space house thing.” From the way Robb was hand talking he’d obviously had a few.

Jon looked puzzled like he was working something out.

“DIY? Is that even legal?”

Robb made an iffy gesture with one hand accompanied by a false frown that broke slowly into a grin. Jon just shook his head and smiled back. Robb had opted for the backpack full of beer route and in no time at all they’d both started new cans. Despite himself, Jon was already having a pretty good time. Robb introduced him to a couple of friends and it took him almost half an hour of being there before he turned to Robb in confusion.

“Hey, where’s Theon?” Jon asked.

“Oh he’s around. Probably on the roof. I think his band’s playing second? But I’m not sure. The lineup should be starting _any_ time now. It’s already after 10.”

 _Roof_? “His _band_?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? Well, one of them. This one’s more covers than original stuff so he doesn’t play with them much, but they practically begged him.” Robb couldn’t help but look a little prideful-bordering-on-smug that it was _his_ boyfriend who was in _such_ high demand. _He has no idea_ , Jon reflected privately.

At that moment the stage lit up and saved him from having to respond with anything more than some raised eyebrows and a vaguely knowing nod. The first band was not bad. It was an all-girl punk band called The Sand Snakes who somehow managed to cram all eight of its members onto a stage that had barely been designed to accommodate a four-piece.

The crowd was drunk and rowdy and everyone was dancing. Including Jon, much to his own surprise. By the time the first set ended Robb had switched to liquor and was now drinking heavily from a 26 of J&B he had pulled out of his bag. When Jon shot him a look that seemed to ask _Should you really be doing that?_ Robb just gave a drunken shrug and took another sip. Jon wasn’t about to cramp his style. If Robb wanted to get absolutely fucking shitfaced that was his prerogative.

Jon hit the bathroom between bands, which was an adventure in and of itself, so he was just wading back to where he and Robb had been standing when he looked up and saw Theon at the front of the stage. Jon would be lying if he said he knew how many other people were on stage with him. He was immediately focused exclusively on Theon and nothing else. Robb began to slur nonsense into his ear about some friend of his as soon as he was within shouting distance, but Jon let it all fade away. He was rapt with attention, reverently looking up at Theon as he sang his way through covers of The Stone Roses and Alex G. Jon was starting to feel a bit buzzed and he took a generous swig of Robb’s scotch to seal the deal.

Swaying in the crowd a little glassy-eyed from the drink it was easy for Jon to imagine that Theon was looking back down at him just as intently, feeling the same things that he was feeling. Singing just for him. Jon felt so hot he thought his entire body might burn up. And then he was brought abruptly back to reality.

“So I’ve kind of been seeing this girl…”

When Jon registered the words that were being breathed into his ear and who it was that was speaking them he could have laughed aloud for bitterness. Here he had been, thinking for _one_ second that this night had actually been about him. Ha! He should have known better. No way could Robb turn the focus off of himself for anywhere near that long. _Fucking_ idiot.

Jon went cold as Robb’s words continued to pour into his ear like vomit. A drunken, stream-of-consciousness confessional that filled Jon with venom. Because this was what Robb did: whatever he wanted. He was a larger than life Daisy Buchanan lifted straight off the pages of Fitzgerald. Jon’s hands balled into fists and it was a struggle not to use them.

As for Robb, he required no response. He just kept on talking until he was empty. It was doubtful that he’d remember any of this in the morning and equally doubtful that Jon would be able to forget. He snatched the bottle from Robb’s hands with some force, but Robb hardly seemed to notice. He began to drift away from Jon in the crowd, dancing languidly and disappearing from view.

When the music stopped Jon was shaking. Bottle in hand and without so much as a backward glance toward the stage he moved in the direction of a staircase in the corner that appeared to lead up to a second floor. When he hit the top there was a hallway leading into an open space, but directly in front of him there was a ladder that led up onto the roof. He started to climb.

There were still people up top, but considerably fewer. Clutching his third of scotch, Jon begged a cigarette off the boyfriend of an Amazonian blonde with spectacular legs. Brooding against a brick chimneypiece he drank and smoked in solitude. He was so lost in thought he didn’t even notice that after only a few minutes he was no longer alone.

“Hello,” said Theon.

“Hi,” Jon replied blankly. “Where’s Robb?” Only after asking this did he allow himself to meet Theon’s eyes. So that neither of them could forget the way things stood.

“He just left.”

“What?” Jon asked growing suddenly angry.

“I caught him at the door. Said he was feeling ill. I’m assuming because he drank the better part of that,” Theon said, indicating the scotch as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the warm spring air. He’d obviously been drinking, but not to excess. Jon was surprised. He seemed the type.

Jon didn’t know what to say as he flicked his butt onto the ground to bridge the silence. His mind was in tatters trying to process chaos.

“Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet,” Theon said by way of a subject change, taking Jon’s hand lightly in his and leading him over to a group of guys at the far end of the patio. One of the guys was actually a woman, Jon found upon drawing closer and it was she towards whom they were headed. She had a messy brown mullet and a nose ring. Her expression was wary, but neutral. She looked quizzically at Theon as they approached.

“Jon, Asha. Asha, Jon.”

For the briefest of moments Jon went faint at the idea that this might be a set up, but the way Asha held his hand as though she were threatening to crush it led him to believe that that was decidedly _not_ the purpose of this introduction.

“She’s my sister,” Theon said in explanation after Jon continued to stand there like a profoundly stupid cold fish.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You’re one of Robb’s brothers?”

“I am.”

Asha made a noise of displeasure. “You here to ruin my brother’s life too?” she asked caustically.

“Asha,” Theon snapped in warning, jaw tense.

Even though the question was clearly rhetorical, Jon answered it anyway. “No. I… don’t think I could,” voice meek. Theon studied him intently.

Jon had so many things he wanted to say, wanted to ask. He’d spent much of the past few years emotionally closed off from everyone around him and he’d forgotten the complexities of social nicety, the subtlety of personal interaction, the conflicting moral pressures of one’s relationships: in short, the general and constant anxiety of being involved in other people’s lives. After considering for a long time, he finally said, “Robb and I are very different people.” His eyes were flint, meeting Asha's as if daring her to reply glibly.

She sized him up for another tense moment before giving the slightest of nods which seemed to dispel the dark mood that had eclipsed the evening. “Good to know.” Then they were interrupted by one of the Sand Snake girls who came over to Asha and made it known that the two of them were now otherwise engaged. Jon and Theon exchanged comfortable smiles, Theon apparently unsurprised by his sister's behaviour.

The rest of the night passed in a happy blur. Jon gave himself over to scotch and music, with Theon stalwart by his side the entire time, making introductions and manoeuvering him through the crowd as necessary. But mostly the two of them spent the rest of the night dancing together with abandon as they shared the remains of Robb’s scotch.


	3. Kute

_Where am I?_

Jon moved in a haze to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, a bowl of oatmeal in hand. With sliced apples and brown sugar; His favourite. When he looked down at himself he was already dressed. Green t-shirt. Jeans. He even smelled faintly of aftershave. He felt incredible, happy and warm all over. The apartment was sunlit and perfect.

He heard a quiet sound and Theon came around the corner into the kitchen. Shirtless. The sweatpants again. His look was intent and he stood before Jon as if inviting admiration. With his posture, his undress, the cocky confidence that rolled off of him in waves.

“I think you should let me kiss you.” The timbre of Theon’s voice stirred up butterflies in Jon’s abdomen.

He gave a single nod letting his continued silence and general complaisance be permission enough for whatever might come next.

Theon knelt before him, eyes filled with a dark fire despite their clarity of colour. The bowl hit the counter, instantly forgotten. Jon watched Theon unzipping his fly, pulling one side of his jeans down and his briefs aside to expose the pale skin of his pelvis just beside his cock, which he left covered and stroked teasingly through the fabric. He kissed gentle at first, but the kiss slowly turned persistent as Theon bruised a hickey onto his flesh. Jon whimpered, hands white-knuckled as they clutched the counter for support. By the time Theon had finished his ministrations they were both fully hard.

From there things got sloppy, more feeling than thought. Tongues and touching and friction. Jon knew he was close, he couldn’t possibly last much longer…

Jon heard a cupboard door slam shut and groaned himself into semi-wakefulness, the utterance half hangover pain half aggravated sexual frustration. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed and shamelessly pursued the last tangents of what had been a truly spectacular dream. Like, really grade A stuff.

Reality could wait. His Saturday morning (afternoon) regrets would keep.

“Sorry,” Theon said unapologetically as he collapsed bodily into the armchair by Jon’s face, plugged into his computer with a heaping plate of buttered toast. His loud, noisy chewing made Jon’s migraine throb with anger. “Good dream?” Theon asked with a smirk and a nod in the direction of his lap.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jon managed, still half-asleep but rolling to face the back of the couch so he could give himself some time to cool off in relative privacy. He adjusted himself with a squirm, biting his lip to keep from making what was likely to be a fairly undignified sound. If Theon was observing him at all he kept wisely silent. With a sigh of pure exasperation Jon grabbed a slice of toast off the top of Theon’s stack, to which its owner issued a half-hearted “Hey!” of protest, before heading in the direction of one very cold shower.

When Jon came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, thoughts still in a mess from everything that was slowly filtering back to him from the night previous, Theon was exactly where he’d left him. The only indication that he’d moved at all was the empty plate by his elbow.

“Robb still asleep?” Jon asked after a few minutes of headphoned silence.

Theon just gave him a very pointed look in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jon muttered, slipping underwear on beneath his towel followed by the same pants he’d been wearing the night before. “What are you watching?” he asked, more to be polite than because he was really curious, as he stood drying his hair in the middle of the living room.

“Erm, High Fidelity,” Theon responded, an explicit question in his tone, clearly doubtful that Jon would have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

Jon turned to face Theon, dead serious. “’I will now sell five copies of The Three EPs by The Beta Band,’” he said in his best John Cusack, complete with faux American accent.

Theon opened his mouth and then closed it with a smile.

“You think I don’t know what High Fidelity is?”

“I didn’t say that!” Theon replied a touch defensively. “Robb just never knows what anything is unless it’s sports or reality television, so I just figured you’d be the same.”

“Well, I’m not,” Jon said sharply, more than a little miffed. He pulled a knit burgundy sweater on much more forcefully than was strictly necessary.

“Are you done?” Theon teased with a barking laugh.

Jon shrugged sulkily, but couldn’t quite manage to keep a straight face.

Theon got up and resettled himself on the sofa, grabbing a short cable from the lower shelf of the coffee table which was now home to a number of Jon’s books as well as its usual jumble. He snatched Jon’s headphones off the side table and held them proffered towards him. When Jon continued to stand there uncomprehendingly Theon rolled his eyes.

“Come on then,” he said, gesturing with the headphones to the space beside him. Jon sat, careful to leave a full two inches between every part of their bodies and put the headphones over his ears. When Theon offered the splitter to him, he plugged in the jack, turning his eyes to the screen with a smile and allowing himself to get lost in the fiction for a little while.

 

*****

 

After that weekend, the three of them experienced a brief period of halcyon days. Jon and Theon fell into the natural friendship that had always been there waiting for them and Robb was cluelessly thrilled that, after what he viewed as a rocky start, his two roomies were getting on so well.

Theon didn’t technically live at the apartment full time. In fact, from what Robb said (gossiped), Theon’s place was gorgeous. Apparently he’d been there for a couple of parties before the two started dating, but Robb indicated to Jon that he thought it was some kind of chic guilt-property paid for by Theon’s father as a substitute for actual parenting, which was a large part of the reason he wanted nothing to do with the place. Theon only seemed to go there when he needed to do laundry or otherwise replenish his clothing supply. One assumed this was also his way of checking up to make sure the thing hadn’t burned to the ground, although if it _had_ the doorman or property manager surely would have been in touch.

Jon didn’t hear mention of it from Theon himself until, ironically, he was down at the laundromat one evening taking care of his own washing and drying needs.

“Hey.”

Jon was sitting on a machine near the window reading with his headphones on when he heard the familiar voice and turned his attention to Theon. _Why does he always have to look so damn good?_ Jon swallowed thickly. _And smell so good…_ He’d never been more turned on by a plain white t-shirt in his entire life. _Why did I have to pick a machine by the window? How could I know he’d walk by?_ He reflected absently that he was coming up on the 15 seconds of inappropriate silence mark simultaneous to the rapid-fire stream of his thoughts, an infinite internal scream, and his overt ogling.

“Looks like you’ve caught me out living my glamourous double life,” Jon said dryly, sweeping an awkward hand to encompass his surroundings and pulling his headphones down to his neck. It was a painfully unfunny thing to say, but Theon responded with a laugh so genuine it almost made Jon blush. Theon looked for a moment like he was going to join Jon atop the bank of washers, but, as if thinking better of it, remained where he stood in the space between Jon’s thighs.

The pull between them was undeniable and visceral and all-consuming. Jon worried that it had the power to tear his life apart. _I’ve got to start looking for an apartment. Properly_ , he chided _._ It pained him to decide it, but if everyone was going to keep living with the choices they’d made he couldn’t stay trapped in that flat any longer.

“You know,” Theon said, looking up suddenly. And were his pupils blown or was it just Jon’s imagination? He cleared his throat and began again. “You know, if you need, you can always come do your washing at my place. I don’t mind.”

“I bet that’s what you say to all the boys,” Jon said with a quick smile to give Theon an out.

“Actually, not really.”

“Robb?”

Theon shook his head. “Asha’s the only person I usually like having there.”

“I’m honoured.”

“Maybe I just like you best,” he said, blank and candid, shy and serious. “Well, you’ll get there one way or another,” Theon said by way of a subject change. “Robb demanded a ‘massive rager’ – his words, not mine – to celebrate his birthday this year, which is pretty soon actually, and I guess my place is the place.” Theon rolled his eyes as he spoke. Jon was fascinated by the way Theon talked about Robb, when he talked about him at all that is, his voice was always a heartbreaking mixture of dutiful affection and embarrassed disappointment. He had been observing their dynamic obsessively since he’d moved in, particularly since that night at The Faceless Man, both as an objective outsider and as a concerned citizen. Too concerned.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Theon broke Jon out of his reverie by lightly running his hands up Jon’s calves before his self-restraint kicked back in and he stilled their progress without removing them. They froze in tense tableau. “It’s not that I don’t want to…” Theon mused as if it had been Jon who’d been the instigator and he needed to rebuff him. He looked up through his fringe, through his eyelashes so that Jon couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to. “Because I _really_ fucking want to. I wish…”

He changed tacks to try and express himself more concisely. “Look, I used to be not a very good person.” Jon waited for more with bated breath. “That person, he’d have fucked you that first night on the sofa without thinking twice. I’ve done some really bad things to other people, and I’ve had some really bad things done to me. And this isn’t to say that I’m some fucking saint now. Obviously. Because we’re here. And I think about you.” There was a pause where Jon wondered if Theon was going to finish speaking at all. Then he blurted the last all in a rush. “I just think maybe I’d like to be good. I want to be. And that’s why. And I’m sorry. And I just thought you should know.” The finish was firm and he immediately pulled his hands away from Jon’s legs. His face was expectant, earnest.

“Well I guess that’s that then,” Jon said, struggling to conceal his emotions even as he railed against them: a poisonous mixture of lust, resentment, compassion, and jealousy. He felt himself grow ugly as more words began to leave his mouth unbidden. “You’ve worked it all out have you? As long as you get to maintain your moral boundaries by overcoming temptation before anything goes too far, I guess no one gets hurt. Isn’t that jolly.” He felt sick and hateful inside as he slid off the machine and began to transfer his clothes to a dryer nearby with trancelike movements.

Theon looked shocked for a second as if Jon had physically slapped him, then his expression hardened and he got ugly too. “Yeah you’re right. We would have both felt _so good_ getting together behind Robb’s back. I’m sure if we started that way we could’ve really made a go of it.” Saying his name brought some semblance of normalcy back to a shouting match at a laundromat that had really begun to take on a sense of unreality. Theon looked like he wanted to scream at Jon for stupidity, his expression pitying, and in that moment Jon hated him for it. “See you at home then.” His farewell was uncharacteristically diminutive as he turned on his heel, headed outside into the mild spring evening and was gone.

Without Theon there Jon felt more confused and alone than ever. Nothing had changed, not really. They’d just gotten mad and said some horrible words to one another instead of to the person they both really wanted to shout at. Jon finished his laundry with an ache inside him that only grew with the passing minutes as he worried that he may have just gotten himself kicked out of the only club he’d ever wanted to be a part of.


End file.
